


SANTA'S GIFT TO SKINNER

by fhsa_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-29
Updated: 2008-02-29
Packaged: 2019-02-05 17:00:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12798612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: Skinner meets Santa Claus in a bar and receives a wonderful life-changing gift.





	SANTA'S GIFT TO SKINNER

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

Title: SANTA’S GIFT TO SKINNER

Author: Donna McIntosh

Fandom: X-Files

Pairing: Skinner/Krycek

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17 FRAO

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Chris Carter. I just let them have a lot more sex than he did.

Summary: Skinner meets Santa Claus in a bar and he receives a wonderful gift.

 

SANTA’S GIFT TO SKINNER

 

Walter Skinner finished his drink and was about to leave when a man in a Santa Claus suit sat down at his table opposite him.

 

“Do you mind if I sit for a minute? I’m exhausted.” 

 

“Sure. Help yourself. I was just leaving.” Skinner started to get up.

 

“Please. Could you wait just a minute? It’d be so nice to talk to an adult for a change. I’ve been over at the Mall giving out gifts to the little ones all day.” The old man leaned back in his chair and sighed deeply.

 

“It’s late. I really should be getting home.” Skinner said, not wanting to get pulled into someone else’s uncomfortable life.

 

“It’ll only take a moment. You’ve can take a moment out of your busy life for Santa Claus, can’t you?” He smiled with twinkling blue eyes out from under thick white eye brows; his nose a bulbous shiny red and his long fluffy white beard looked real.

 

“It must be a tough job; dealing with all those kids during the holidays.” Skinner said then added, “Can I buy you a drink?”

 

“Ho ho ho, oh goodness no! What would people think if they saw Santa taking a drink?”

 

“Maybe that he was thirsty for something other than hot chocolate?” Skinner gave a reluctant grin.

 

“No, no. I don’t partake of the spirits. Never have.” 

 

“Then aren’t you in the wrong place?” Skinner asked.

 

“I like you, Walter Skinner; always have.” He chuckled.

 

Skinner stiffened up, “You know me?”

 

“Of course, I’m Santa Claus. I know everybody.” He chuckled.

 

“What do you want?” Skinner asked suddenly suspicious.

 

“Relax. It’s nearly Christmas. I just wanted to give you a Christmas present.” He smiled.

 

“What’s this all about?” Skinner looked around the room to see if this ‘Santa’ had any accomplices with him.

 

“Good old Walter; always on the alert.” Santa grinned and twiddled his mustache. “I assure you, you are in no danger. I simply wanted to give you this gift.” He reached into his sack and pulled out a package and sat it on the table in front of Skinner.

 

“What is it? Who are you? What do you want from me?” Skinner couldn’t help his suspicious nature.

 

“I thought that was obvious. I’m Santa Claus. And what this is, is the perfect gift for you. It’s an answering machine.” He tapped the top of the package and shoved it a bit closer to Skinner.

 

Skinner stared at the man across from him then gazed down at the cube shaped package, knowing that no answering machine he had ever seen would fit in a box that size. “I already have an answering machine, thank you.” He started again to get up but Santa stopped him.

 

“Please. Just do an old man a favor and take a look at it. I guarantee it’s different from any other answering machine that you have ever seen and one that you will love!”

 

Skinner glanced once more around the bar. He decided it probably wouldn’t hurt to humor the man. They were in a crowded bar and the old man wasn’t making any move to leave so it couldn’t be a bomb or anything too harmful. He lifted the top off the white box and glanced inside. There sat an 8 ball.

 

“I had one of these when I was a kid.” He exclaimed picking it up and fingering its smooth black surface.

 

“Yes, I know. I brought it to you on your 10th Christmas. If I remember correctly, you weren’t all that happy with it. You wanted a horse.”

 

Skinner’s eyes snapped up to Santa’s. Who was this man? “Now how did you know that?” He asked.

 

Santa gave a soft chuckle.

 

“I guess most 10 year olds want horses. It was an easy guess.” Skinner reasoned. He turned the ball over in his hands, noticing the extra large screen on the bottom. “This one seems bigger; the screen is bigger. Does it have more answers than just ‘yes, no, maybe’ and ‘don’t count on it’?”

 

“This answering machine is unlike anything you have ever seen.” Santa assured him.

 

“How is that?” Skinner asked.

 

“It’s magic!”

 

“Magic?” Skinner chuckled himself now. He couldn’t help it. The old man was really into his role and playing Santa to the hilt.

 

“That’s right. It can answer any question that you put to it. Go on; try it.”

 

Skinner thought he’d put a stop to the silliness right away and asked a question that couldn’t be answered ‘yes, no, or maybe’. “What’s my name?” He asked.

 

The screen at the bottom of the ball glowed white for a minute and in bold black letters – Walter Sergei Skinner appeared. He was stunned!

 

“How’d you do that?” He asked the grinning Santa.

 

“I told you. It’s magic! Go on; ask it something else. It can answer any question you ask.”

 

“Who is sitting across from me?” Skinner asked.

 

The screen wavered a moment then the letters appeared – Santa Claus.

 

“Look, I don’t know how you’re doing this, but I’m really not interested.” He dumped the ball back into the box and shoved it back across the table towards Santa.

 

“You don’t believe in magic?” Santa asked.

 

“I do not!” 

 

“You should. It’s real enough, you know. There just isn’t all that much of it around these days.”

 

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to be going.” Skinner stood and started putting his coat on.

 

“Certainly. I know you’re a busy man. Just please take your gift. I wanted to give you something special this year to make up for all the many years when you didn’t get what you really wanted for Christmas.” Santa stood and shoved the box into Skinner’s hands.

 

“Do I know you?” Skinner tried to see through the disguise but had no luck. He straightened his coat collar and buttoned up.

 

“Of course you do. Everyone knows Santa Claus. Sometimes it’s just hard to believe; that’s all.”

 

A few customers up front broke into a Christmas carol and Skinner looked over at them. When he looked back, Santa was gone. He looked around quickly but the old man was no where to be seen. Skinner walked up front, paid his tab and walked out into the snowy night. 

 

His car was frigid cold and he sat a few minutes to let it warm up. Finally the heater started putting out some warm air and he guided it out into the night time DC traffic. He didn’t get far when the traffic came to a halt. “What the hell is going on up there now?” he cursed and craned his neck to see what had stopped them.

 

A glow from the box on the seat beside him brought his thoughts back inside the car. He reached over and picked up the 8 ball and turned it over. The screen read, ‘traffic accident. Blue Ford pickup and white Saturn, two blocks up.”

 

He stared at the ball. It couldn’t be! This toy, or whatever it was, certainly couldn’t know what was actually happening! No way! Just then the traffic started to move again and he dumped the ball back into the box. Two blocks further he came across the accident; a blue Ford pickup was crossways in front of a white Saturn. He was stunned. He almost caused another wreck staring but was brought back to reality as he was waved on by an officer. He refused to think any further about it until he got home. 

 

After entering his condo, he went straight upstairs; and got into a hot shower. Dressed in a warm sweat suit and socks he came back downstairs. He fixed himself a drink and sat down at his desk. He thumbed through his mail, tossing the ads and putting aside what were obviously Christmas cards to open later. 

 

He sipped his drink and stared at the ball. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a magnifying glass and scanned the ball closely. No visible openings; no place where batteries could be installed; just a large plastic black ball, about the size of a soft ball, with a large number 8 on one side inside a white circle and a viewing screen on the bottom.

 

“Are you still there?” He asked feeling silly talking to this thing, whatever it was.

 

“I am here.” The words came up on the glowing screen.

 

“Where were you manufactured? Who created you?”

 

“The farthest northern point of America. Santa Claus created me.”

 

Skinner sneered and took another sip of his drink.

 

“What is your purpose?”

 

“To answer your questions.”

 

“And if I have no questions?”

 

“Everyone has questions; it is unlikely that you have none.”

 

“Do you have a name?”

 

“I do not.”

 

“You can answer any question at all that I ask?”

 

“There are limits to my knowledge.”

 

“Then you are not perfect?”

 

“No one and nothing is perfect.”

 

“Well, so much for magic.” Skinner turned the ball over and sat it down on its screen.

 

 

He opened the rest of his mail, glanced at the cards and tossed them into his trash can. He shuffled some papers on his desk and tried to straighten things a bit but his attention kept coming back to the ball. “At least you can make an interesting paperweight.” He said and placed it on a stack of papers.

 

He finished his drink and took the glass to the kitchen and rinsed it out and placed it in the dishwasher. He walked back into the living room and stood, hands on hips and wondered aloud, “Now what am I going to do with myself for the weekend?” He glanced over at the ball and saw a glimmer of light from beneath it. He gave a disgusted sigh and went over to it, sitting on the corner of his desk. He flipped it over and read. 

 

“Was that question directed to me?”

 

“No. I was speaking to myself.”

 

“Then no answer is expected?”

 

“That’s right.” He slammed the ball back down and walked over to his sliding glass doors to the balcony and stared out. “I can’t believe I’m talking to a toy!” He was thoroughly disgusted with himself. “This has got to be an all-time low. Am I going senile now?” He glanced over to his desk and saw the ball glowing. 

 

He sighed, went over and picked it up and turned it over. “Was that question directed at me?”

 

“It was not.”

 

The ball screen went blank. Skinner walked over and sat down on his couch; carrying the ball with him. 

 

“Did I hurt your feelings?” He asked.

 

The screen glowed back to life. “I have no feelings for you to hurt. My opinion was un-necessary.”

 

Skinner sighed and leaned back. He tossed the ball up into the air and caught it; repeating the action three or four times then asked. “Did that make you sick to your stomach?”

 

“I have no stomach.”

 

“OK. You have no stomach. So what do you usually do on a Friday night?”

 

“I answer questions.”

 

“That’s it?”

 

“That is it.”

 

“Seems kind of lonely.”

 

“Was that a question?”

 

“Yes, it was. Are you lonely?”

 

“I am not lonely. I am not alone. You are here.” The ball answered.

 

“If I’m all you have to keep you company on a Friday night then your life must be as miserable as mine.”

 

“Question?”

 

“Yes; that was a question. You say you’re not lonely; are you happy?” Skinner asked.

 

“I have no emotions therefore I am neither lonely, happy nor anything else.”

 

“Sometimes I wish I was like that; no emotions.”

 

The ball was blank. Skinner missed the comeback.

 

“Must all conversation be in questions?”

 

“Yes. It is what I do. I answer questions.”

 

“Who did you belong to before you were given to me?”

 

“Santa Claus.”

 

“This is getting really tiring. Do you really believe that Santa Claus made you?”

 

“Yes; he did.”

 

“OK. So I’ll bet you believe in the Easter bunny, and little green men too?”

 

“There is no such thing as an Easter bunny who brings candy to children; that is simply put, a fairy tale. As to little green men; I have in my data banks knowledge of many little men and men of different color. I have no knowledge of men who are both little and green.”

 

“You give very detailed answers. How is this accomplished?”

 

“Magic.”

 

“You believe in magic?”

 

“I do.”

 

“What’s magical about a plastic ball that answers questions? They’ve been around for years.”

 

“Not like me. I was designed specifically for you. There is not another like me nor has there ever been.”

 

“You were designed specifically for me?”

 

“I was. You are Walter Sergei Skinner, are you not?”

 

“I am. Why were you created for me?”

 

“I was told it was what you needed most.”

 

“An answering machine?”

 

“Honest direct answers to any and all of your questions.”

 

“You cannot lie or exaggerate?”

 

“No.”

 

“And you assume I cannot get honest direct answers anywhere else?”

 

“I assume nothing. I simply am.”

 

“OK. How old am I?”

 

“52 next birthday.”

 

“I wouldn’t have minded a little lie there.”

 

“I do not lie.”

 

“OK. I’m nearly 52. You got that right. What size shoe do I wear?”

 

“11 ½ medium.”

 

“What good is all this? I already know the answers to these questions.”

 

“Perhaps you should ask questions for which you have no answers.”

 

“Then how will I know if you’re lying or not?”

 

“I do not lie.”

 

“And I’m supposed to believe you?”

 

“Yes. I was created for you; not to lie to you.”

 

“OK. How about this? One of my agents has been searching for a serial murderer. He has butchered six people and we can’t get a handle on him. Can you tell me his name and where we can find him?” Skinner sat back with a smug grin on his face; knowing this ‘toy’ couldn’t answer that one.

 

“The murderer you are seeking is not a male, it is a female who dresses in men’s clothing. Her name is Wanda Marie Evans and she lives in Rockport, MD. 4326 Harrison Drive to be exact.”

 

Skinner sat up with a start. The name Evans rang a bell; it had something to do with the case. He tried to put the pieces together. “Are you sure? How do you know this?”

 

“I am always sure. I would not state something as fact if I was not sure. I know this because it is within my knowledge.”

 

Skinner jumped up and went to his desk. He dug through his papers and pulled out the correct file. There is was. He shuffled through it. Evans, Evans; he scanned page after page until he came to the report of the first killing; Wanda M. Evans; sister of the first victim. He picked up his phone and punched in the contact number. “Mathews? Skinner. I’ve been going over the files and I think we need to take a closer look at this Wanda Evans; sister to the first victim. Something tells me we need to dig a little deeper there.” Pause “Right. OK. Let me know what you find out.” He hung up and went back to the couch and picked up the ball again.

 

“What else do you know? What else can you help me with?” Skinner was beginning to believe; if just a tiny bit.

 

“Whatever you have a question about; if it is within my range of knowledge. I can tell you anything that has happened in your lifetime and why it happened or tell you who longs for you each night. I can predict your future with 80% accuracy.”

 

“What nonsense!” Skinner scoffed. The screen in the ball went blank. “Look; I didn’t mean to offend you.” The screen remained blank. “Are you still there?”

 

“I am always here.”

 

“You can really do all those things?”

 

“I can.”

 

“So tell me; who was my first grade teacher?” Skinner thought he’d try something easy.

 

“Mrs. Gartner.”

 

“That’s right. Of course you could have found that out by doing research on me. Let me think a minute. OK. If you’re magic, why only 80% accuracy about the future?”

 

“Because the future has not happened yet and there are many variables that could change the outcome.”

 

“All right; I can accept that. So who is this mysterious someone who’s longing for me?”

 

“Alex Krycek.”

 

“Alex Krycek! Now I know you’re crazy. You got that one wrong by a long shot.”

 

“The answer is correct.”

 

“Alex Krycek hates my guts. He’d just as soon kill me as look at me.”

 

“The answer is correct.”

 

“If Alex Krycek has any thoughts of me, it’s dreaming up ways to make my life more miserable.”

 

“Was that a question or a statement?”

 

“A statement of fact; you missed that one.”

 

“The answer is correct.”

 

“You don’t even know Alex Krycek; how can you possibly know who he longs for?”

 

“I know because he has a connection to you.”

 

“And you can see into his thoughts? Maybe it’s some other bald-headed guy he’s thinking about.”

 

“I can see his dreams when they are of you; I do not make mistakes; he dreams of you.”

 

“Then you must be talking about a different Alex Krycek. Can you describe him to me?”

 

“Would a picture suffice?”

 

“You can show me pictures?

 

“I can.”

 

“Then, yes; show me a picture of this Alex Krycek you’re talking about. I’ll bet money it’s not the same one that I know.”

 

“If you did not know him, I would not be receiving his dreams.” The words faded away and a photo of Alex Krycek appeared. The picture was live and he was moving around.”

 

“What is this? You have a camera in his apartment?”

 

“I do not need a camera. Yes, this is Alex Krycek in his apartment.” The words appeared in smaller print beneath the picture.

 

Skinner stared scowling into the view screen. Krycek was climbing into bed. He lay there for several seconds then leaned down and drew something out from between his mattress and box spring.

 

“What is he doing?” Skinner asked.

 

“What he does every night. He sits and sketches pictures of you.”

 

“You’re crazy!” 

 

The view drew closer and clearly showed Krycek sitting up in bed with a sketch pad in his lap and working on something. Then the view changed and he could clearly see what was being drawn. It was a pencil sketch of Skinner standing in his doorway in a pair of slacks; no shirt, no shoes. Skinner’s mouth dropped open.

 

“But he hates me.”

 

“Was that a question?”

 

“Yes, doesn’t he hate me?”

 

“On the contrary; he cares deeply for you.”

 

“But I thought…?”

 

“You thought wrong.” 

 

“Do you know who he works for?”

 

“Yes; he works for several organizations. Do you wish for me to list them?”

 

“Yes. Please, list them.”

 

“He works for an organization known as the Consortium. He works for an organization known as the Resistance. He does occasional work for the same company you work for, the FBI. He has done work in the past for the CIA, as well as other various organizations.”

 

“And you’re sure about all this? There’s no possible way you could be mistaken?”

 

“I do not make mistakes. I state facts.”

 

Skinner stood up and began pacing the floor trying to figure out how he could use this information to his best advantage. While he was trying to decide which direction to take next, the phone rang. He sat on the edge of his desk and answered it. It was Mathews. He had managed to get hold of Wanda Evans and with a minimal amount of questioning, she confessed. He had taken her into custody and was happy to relate that their latest serial killer had been taken off the streets. Skinner hung up the phone in a daze. He sat staring across the room at the ball sitting on the coffee table. He walked back over to the couch and sat down, picking the ball up and cradling it in his hands.

 

“It’s all true? You really know what you’re talking about?”

 

“I relate only the truth.”

 

Skinner stared at the ball for a time then asked, “Can I see Krycek again?”

 

“Certainly.” The scene was about the same; except that Krycek had finished his sketch and was now sitting there staring at it; a desperately sad look on his face. 

 

“If it’s true, if he has … feelings for me; why hasn’t he ever shown it? I thought he hated me.”

 

“Circumstances prevented it.”

 

“What the hell does that mean? Why does he act like he hates me?”

 

“It means that his work took him in opposite directions from yours. He acts like he hates you to disguise his true feelings.”

 

“I still can’t believe this.”

 

“I do not lie.”

 

“You could just be mistaken.”

 

“I do not make mistakes. I know what was, what is, and what will be.”

 

“You know what will be?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Do you know if he and I … ever … get together?”

 

“You do.”

 

“How? That’s impossible. When?”

 

“He will come to you one day soon. You will have to decide then.”

 

“Decide what?”

 

“If you want to be with him badly enough to start a new life with him.”

 

“Do you know about him? What he’s done? Why he did some of the things he’s done?”

 

“I know about him. I know the things he’s done and why he did them.”

 

“You know why he left the Bureau?”

 

“He was young and naïve and thought that Mr. C.G.B. Spender was with the Bureau when he accepted his first assignments. He was misled into joining the Consortium. By the time he realized who he was working for, it was too late.”

 

“Too late? How? He could have come to me or to any AD and told us what happened.”

 

“He did not know who to trust at the time. He went directly to Jana Cassidy; told her his story and she took advantage of the situation. She insisted he stay where he was and had him leak information to her.”

 

“Are you sure about this?”

 

“My statements are accurate.”

 

“I wish he had come to me.” Skinner massaged his temples and tried to think. “How long as Cassidy known?”

 

“Eight years, four months, two weeks and three days.”

 

“Shit! I should have been told! She had no right to keep something like this from me!” He thought a minute then asked, “You say he works for the Resistance too?”

 

“That is correct.”

 

“How long?”

 

“From the beginning of its existence; he helped organize it and set it up.”

 

Skinner stood up and paced the floor. He started for another drink then decided he’d had enough. What he really needed was sleep. He had a lot of thinking to do. He put the ball back in its box and took it upstairs with him. He placed it on the dresser and lay there staring at it while he fell asleep.

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

The next day was December 24th; Christmas Eve day. He got up, dressed and went in to work. The building was nearly empty with most everyone off for the holidays. He went directly to his office and sat behind his desk. He thought about things for a long time then turned his computer on and after entering his pass code, typed in Alex Krycek. A brief description of his short stay at the bureau was all he found. There was a locked section at the bottom of the file and he typed in his security code but the screen showed “Access denied”. He tried three different codes and all were denied. So the bureau did have more on him but it was restricted. He had top security clearance but there were two levels above his; Deputy Director, and Director. So only Kersh and Cassidy had access and he trusted neither of them.

 

He pulled out his brief case and began working on the files he had carried home the night before. He worked on them until his stomach began to growl. A glance at his watch showed it to be after noon and he had eaten nothing since his 6 AM bowl of Cheerios. He thought for a moment about what he wanted to eat and decided to leave. He threw a few files into his briefcase, donned his coat, and headed out the door.

 

He stopped at a Chinese take-out place on the way home and planned to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening working from home. He ate a quick bite then set himself to work reading and analyzing agent’s reports. He finished the last one and stood up and stretched; his muscles tired from a long day behind a desk. He went back to the kitchen and re-heated the left over Chinese. As he was cleaning up, he noticed a fortune cookie in the debris and cracked it open. “Believe him” was all it said. He dumped the trash and went back into the living room taking a seat on the couch. 

 

He picked up the 8 ball, turned it over and asked, “I got this message from a fortune cookie. Do you know what it means? It says ‘Believe him.’ Is this a message to believe you or someone else? Or is this just more nonsense?”

 

“It is not nonsense. It does not refer to me as I have no gender. It refers to Alex Krycek.”

 

“Now how do you know that? I haven’t even seen Krycek in months.”

 

“You will see him very soon. He comes with a message. He will tell you the truth. Believe him.”

 

“A message from whom; cancer man?”

 

“No; he will tell you his true feelings. He has decided the time is right.”

 

 

Skinner stared at the ball for several minutes, speechless. Krycek is coming here? And he’s going to tell me he cares for me? He sat in stunned silence. What would he do? What would he say? How could he possibly react? He stood up and began pacing the floor. What on hearth had he gotten himself into? He wished he’d never picked up that darn 8 ball to begin with! Could any of it be true? Did Krycek really have feelings for him?

 

He thought back to the early days when Krycek first started at the bureau. Skinner couldn’t help but notice the green agent; so eager to please and do well. He had the makings of a fine agent and Skinner had thought that he would go far. He also had to admit to himself that he had had some rather lustful thoughts about him. Everything was in a state of upheaval in Skinner’s life at the time. Mulder and Scully were giving him a lot of trouble with the X-Files; Sharon had asked for a divorce to move to Paris with one of her many lovers; and cancer man was hovering constantly. Then this green-eyed beauty walks into his life. Someone he knew he had not a chance in hell with. He was way too young; he worked at the Bureau which made him off-limits in Skinner’s mind and probably never gave this bald-headed AD a second thought. No way! It has to be a mistake.

 

Skinner fixed himself a drink and took a quick swallow. He stood staring into the amber liquid; swirled it and listened to the ice tinkling. He was startled by the knock on the door though he was half-way expecting it.

 

“It’s not Krycek,” he thought. “I won’t be Krycek! It’s probably a neighbor wishing him a Merry Christmas. It certainly couldn’t be Krycek; anyone but Krycek!” He opened the door and there stood Alex Krycek.

 

“Hi, can I talk to you a few minutes? I won’t take up much time. I just have something to tell you and then I’ll leave. No trouble; I promise.” A faint smile curved his lips.

 

Skinner shook himself out of his daze and stepped back, opening the door for Krycek to enter, then closed the door. “I was just having a drink. Can I fix you something?” He asked.

 

Krycek was a little taken aback by the offer and his expression showed it. “Eh, no thanks.” He walked to the middle of the room.

 

Skinner stood facing him. “You have something to tell me?” he prompted.

 

Krycek cleared his throat and started. “Um, yes, I do.” He had to pull his eyes away from Skinner to gather his thoughts again which had scattered the moment Skinner opened the door. He snuck a quick look back at Skinner standing there in his work clothes, tie taken off and white shirt opened at the collar, the sleeves rolled up. 

 

“I’m sorry. Please; sit down.” Skinner was suddenly apprehensive about what he was going to hear. He motioned to the couch and Krycek sat at the very edge, as if he knew he didn’t belong there on Skinner’s furniture. He leaned forward, elbows on knees. Skinner sat on the corner of his desk, opposite him.

 

“You’re awfully polite tonight.” Krycek observed.

 

“Well, it’s Christmas Eve. I don’t think you’ve come here to kill me now; have you?”

 

“NO! No; I just wanted to tell you something.”

 

“OK. So you’ve said.” He waited. 

 

Krycek stood up again and walked over to the balcony window peering out through the sheer curtains and keeping his back to Skinner. Then he began to speak. “When I was a kid, seven years old, it was Christmas; my father had died before I was born and my mother and I lived in a room over a garage at the house where she did housekeeping; I wanted to give my mother a present but we were very poor. So I drew her a picture and carefully printed ‘I love you’ on the back and gave it to her. She cried and told me that was the best gift she had ever gotten. That to give some one your love was the best gift a person could possibly give.” He paused and took a quick peek over at Skinner who was watching him closely. He looked back out the window and went on.

 

“I’m 38 years old now and I’m still poor. I have nothing to give, nothing to offer but my love. I love you, Walter. I always have and I always will. Merry Christmas.” He turned and headed for the door. Skinner beat him there and waited with his hand on the door knob.

 

“So that’s it? You tell me you love me then you walk out?” Skinner was angry and he didn’t really know why.

 

“I said what I came to say.” Krycek countered avoiding eye contact.

 

“You walk in here, drop this little bombshell then you just leave? Why tell me now? Why not years ago before all this shit started?” 

 

“Because I’m leaving, Walter, I couldn’t tell you before for obvious reasons but I wanted you to know. I won’t be around any longer. I’ve done all I can here and it’s time to move on.”

 

“And you expect me to come after you?”

 

“No, I don’t. You wouldn’t be able to find me.”

 

“Oh I don’t know about that.” Skinner said thinking about the 8 ball sitting on his table.

 

“Why would you want to find me anyway? There aren’t any warrants out on me.”

 

“Why did you come here? What do you want?” Skinner couldn’t control his suspicious nature.

 

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m leaving. Not just DC. I’m leaving with Jeremiah Smith. I won’t be coming back. You’ll have no more trouble from me or from Cancer man. He’s dead, all six of him; the original and his five clones.”

 

“You can’t just leave.” Skinner’s mind raced into over-drive. “I have questions and you’re the only one who can answer them.”

 

“None of it matters any more. It’s all over.”

 

“Not as long as I have un-answered questions, it isn’t!” Skinner insisted.

 

“There is nothing for you to worry about. I’ve destroyed all the evidence he had against you.”

 

“So that’s it? You come in here, tell me you love me, then you just disappear?”

 

“Yes. That’s about it.” Krycek risked a quick look into Skinner's eyes then had to look away quickly.

 

“The hell it is!” Skinner turned and leaned his back against the door, folded his arms across his chest and stood there glaring at him.

 

“Skinner, I need to go. Smith is waiting for me.” He tried to reach for the door knob but Skinner wouldn’t move.

 

“Let him wait.”

 

“Skinner …”

 

“If you had these feelings for me; why didn’t you ever tell me before?”

 

“I couldn’t. You should know that. I couldn’t take the chance of blowing my cover.”

 

“Your cover? Is that what all that was? Cover? And what is this now? What kind of game are you playing?”

 

Krycek heaved a disgusted sigh and shook his head. “I guess I should have expected this. You don’t believe me. OK. I can understand why. But the truth is, Walter. I’m leaving and I wanted to see you one more time. I wanted to apologize for all I put you through and tell you that I think you’re the finest man I’ve ever known. I … I just needed to do that before I disappeared from your life for good.”

 

They stared at each other for several seconds before Skinner spoke. “And if I don’t want you to leave?”

 

“I am leaving. I’ve already given my word.” He saw the skeptical look on Skinner’s face and added. “Some people actually take me at my word.”

 

“They’ve probably been given cause to. I, however, have not.”

 

“Will you please move.” Krycek was becoming more and more exasperated by the moment. Skinner didn’t take the news at all the way he thought he would and whatever mood this was he was in was something new and just a tad frightening. The last thing he wanted was to get into a fist fight with Skinner.

 

“No!” Skinner said then softened his tone and added, “Will you stay just a little while? So we can talk?”

 

“What’s the point? I said what I came here to say and it’s time for me to leave.”

 

“No it’s not! I told you I have questions.” He uncrossed his arms and took a step forward, towards Krycek. “Please stay; just answer a few questions.”

 

Krycek stepped back, keeping a distance between them and turned sideways to him. “All right; but just for a few minutes. What is it you need to know?”

 

“How long have you … had these feelings for me? Why didn’t you let me know?”

 

“From the first day I met you and I didn’t want you to know because it was too dangerous.”

 

“Dangerous? I can take care of myself!” Skinner was a bit indignant.

 

“Can I go now?”

 

“Why didn’t you come to me earlier and tell me about Spender? I could have helped you.”

 

“I didn’t know you well enough in those earlier days. I was too afraid. By the time I came to know you, it was far too dangerous. You would have jeopardized your career to help me. I couldn’t let you do that. I couldn’t take that risk.”

 

“So you sacrificed yourself?”

 

“I’d hardly call it that. I did my job. I got caught up in Spender’s web and reported it to Cassidy. She wanted me to stay where I was and feed her information and that’s what I did.”

 

“And now that the job is done, the Consortium has been taken down, you just walk away?”

 

“That’s about it.” 

 

“Cassidy won’t take you back on board? After all you’ve done?”

 

“I don’t want back on board. I helped her take the Consortium down. Period. That’s all she needed me for. There’s no way I could work around here anyway. Too many people know me; what I was.”

 

“So where are you going? What are you going to do?”

 

“As I said. It’s time to move on. I’ve got nothing holding me here.”

 

“What if you did? Would you stay?”

 

Krycek eyed him for a moment then said, “No. I’m needed elsewhere. I go where I’m needed. Smith has a place for me. It’s a good one; I like the work. He’s helped me before and I owe him. I’ll stay with him as long as he needs me.”

 

“So … you’re … with him?” Skinner asked.

 

Krycek thought for just a minute that he saw disappointment in Skinner’s eyes then chalked it up to it being a long day. “We ‘work’ together. We work well together. That’s all.”

 

Skinner took two steps closer to him and stopped him when he tried to move back further. He rested a hand on each shoulder. “Are you sure it’s the right thing to do?

Don’t I get a say in this?”

 

Krycek gasped a little; the warmth from the hands on his shoulders matched the warmth in Skinner’s voice. A tone he had never heard from him. “I … No. You don’t. I need to go.”

 

“You say you go where you’re needed; maybe you’re needed right here.” He took another half step closer.

 

“Look; Wal…Skinner. The thought is very nice but I’d be kidding myself and we both know it.”

 

“Maybe not. If you leave, we’ll never know.” He bent down and rested the side of his head against Krycek’s. 

 

Krycek couldn’t breathe; couldn’t focus, couldn’t speak. This is not what he expected. He expected shouting and threats and maybe a punch or two; not this. Not Walter, tender and vulnerable. “I … it’s best that I leave. We both know that.”

 

“No, we don’t.” Skinner pulled back then and locked brown eyes with green. “Stay with me tonight. Let’s just see if there’s anything there. Stay with me.” The last was whispered against the side of his neck as Skinner trailed little kisses down to his shoulder.

 

It had been so long! So long since anyone had touched him like this; and that one had been paid a hundred dollars to do it. It had been cold and empty but it had been OK; it was what he was used to. This… this he had never felt before; Skinner holding him; begging him to stay. It had to be a dream. Skinner hated him; didn’t he? “Why?” He found himself asking.

 

Skinner had only one answer to that. He brought their lips together in a soft but firm kiss. “We have to know if this was meant to be or not.” He whispered against Krycek’s gasping mouth.

 

“Why torture ourselves when we both know I’ll just leave?” 

 

“Stay with me tonight and maybe I’ll be able to convince you to change your mind.” He pulled Krycek fully into his arms then and kissed him thoroughly. Krycek’s arms came up around him and returned the kiss, unable to resist a moment longer.

 

They were both into it now, lost in the passion of need; the need to give and the need to take; two desperate men clinging together seeking and finding what they had both denied themselves for so long; the closeness of joining with another human being; sharing this desperate unquenchable thirst of need and being needed. 

 

The couch was way too far away and the bedroom upstairs was out of the question. They tumbled to the floor where they stood, right in front of the door; first one on top then the other, each staking a claim, each giving way. Hands fumbled with buttons and zippers; clothes were flung out of the way until bare skin could be caressed, tasted and savored. Mouths were mashed together, lips crushed and unwilling to let go.

 

Krycek lost it first; lying on top, his rear being held tightly as their hips moved in sync. He buried his face against the furred chest and gasped his release. Skinner held him close until his trembling ceased then worked his hips in the dampness. As he did so he whispered a chant against the top of Krycek’s head, “Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me.”

 

Krycek slipped his hand between them and grasped Skinner, finishing him off. He came with a growl and nearly threw Krycek off but he held on. The shuddering stopped and they lay silently together. Krycek slipped off and lay beside Skinner; all four arms still holding on tightly.

 

When they were able to move, Skinner pulled Krycek to his feet and up the stairs and into the shower. They lathered up between kisses, caresses and soft murmuring whispers of promises to come once they made it to the bed. Once there they were lost in each other until they both fell asleep just before dawn; each clinging tightly to the other; Skinner terrified to sleep for fear that when he awoke Krycek would be gone; and Krycek afraid that if he let go for one moment he would awaken alone in his apartment after another dream filled night with damp sheets.

 

They awoke as they had slept, with arms and legs wrapped around each other. “Stay with me.” Skinner whispered, not even sure that Krycek was awake. 

 

“I can’t. But you could come with me.” 

 

“Where? Where are you going with Smith?”

 

“Wherever we are needed; wherever we are assigned. The Resistance is always in need of good honest men. With your experience you would be invaluable to them.”

 

“Alex,” Walter said as he sat up and turned the bed side lamp on. “Do you have to go?”

 

“I do. The need is desperate and it grows more so every day. I should already be with them. I told Smith I would be joining them last night.”

 

“Maybe it’s too late then. Maybe he left without you?” Skinner said hopefully.

 

“No; he wouldn’t. He has waited a long time for me to finish up with the Consortium. I told him I was coming here to see you and then I would join him. He will wait for me but I must join him this morning. I can’t keep him waiting any longer.”

 

They stared at one another for several seconds then Krycek spoke again softly. “Come with me.” He reached out and took Skinner’s hand. “Call in and say you’re taking a leave of absence. Come with me and see what it’s like working with the Resistance. You can always come back if you decide your time would be better spent playing middle man between your agents and Cassidy and Kersh.”

 

Before he could answer the phone rang. He reluctantly picked it up saying, “Skinner.”

Pause “What is it, Mulder?”

 

Krycek hearing a name he didn’t want to hear got up and headed for the shower. He was just rinsing off when Skinner pulled the curtain back and climbed in behind him. His arms came around Krycek and held him close resting his chin on Krycek’s shoulder. “I told him I was taking a leave of absence; that I was tired and thinking of retiring.”

 

Krycek turned around and faced him, hope blossoming on his face. “You’re coming with me?”

 

“I’m coming with you. Can you call Smith and get a few more hours? I need to make some phone calls and take care of a few things.”

 

Krycek shook his head ‘yes’, and leaned into the embrace. “You won’t be sorry, Walter. I promise you. You’ll love it as much as I do.”

 

“We’ll see about that. Right now all I’m sure of is that I don’t want to let you out of my sight. I still have questions that I need answers to.”

 

“I’ll give Smith a call. He’ll be happy about this. He knows all about you. I’ve been talking his ear off for years now about how we could use you in the group.”

 

“Oh really? Is that all you want me for? My help? Is this how your recruit members into your organization?” He smiled and kissed Alex deeply.

 

“I meant what I said last night, Walter. I love you. I always have; even before I knew I could trust you, I loved you.”

 

Skinner grinned. “Go make that call. I’ve got to scrape some whiskers. Do we have time for a bite to eat? I’m starving!”

 

Alex was toweling off as he answered. “We must have worked up an appetite last night. I’m starving too and I’m not usually a breakfast person.”

 

Skinner stood alone in the shower as he soaped up then rinsed off. Out of the shower and a towel wrapped around his waist he shaved and brushed his teeth. He stared at himself in the mirror and wondered just for an instant if he was making a mistake. Just then Alex stuck his head in the door and said, “Smith said he had something he needed to take care of and he’d be back for us by 6 pm. I told him you were coming with us. He’s very happy about it.”

 

Skinner reached for him and Alex came into his arms eagerly. “Are we going to get to spend some private time together working for this group of yours?”

 

“Absolutely. We can ask to be assigned to work together. Other couples do. It’s a good system we have going. It works.”

 

“OK. I guess we’d better get dressed then and get this show on the road.” Skinner whipped his towel off and headed for the closet and his clothes. He reached for a suit and Alex stopped him with, “Uh uh.” He pulled a pair of jeans down off a hanger. “These will be your uniform from now on.”

 

Skinner grinned and after slipping on some underwear, stepped into the jeans smiling. “I like this new job already.”

 

“It does have its benefits,” Alex agreed and tossed him a green Henley which he donned quickly and smoothed his hair back. 

 

Breakfast was made by the two of them, purposely bumping into each other as they worked sharing little kisses and nuzzling long the way. They finished their meal and set about making calls and getting things in order for Walter’s departure. Walter stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Alex pick up the 8 ball. “Hey, I used to have one of these when I was a kid!” He tossed it to Walter.

 

“Yeah, I did too. I met Santa Claus in a bar and he gave this to me.” Walter said, caressing the ball.

 

“Santa Claus in a bar? I thought he only drank hot cocoa?” Krycek chuckled. 

 

“Me too.” Skinner admitted. He turned away from Krycek and turned the ball over. “Am I doing the right thing?” He whispered to it. 

 

“It is what your heart wants.”

 

Walter’s eyes left the ball and looked up at Alex, sitting on his couch, amusement in his eyes as he watched Skinner organize his desk.

 

“I asked it if I was doing the right thing.” Walter said as he replaced it on a stack of papers on his desk.

 

“What did it say?” Alex asked.

 

“It said that I should follow my heart.”

 

“Hmmm; I don’t remember that answer ever being on my 8 ball.” Alex answered with a grin.

 

“This one’s magic,” Skinner said matter-of-factly.

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

 

The sun had just dipped behind the horizon and the sky had darkened as the three men drove along the deserted road. Smith stopped the car and the three of them got out and walked to the center of a field. Walter was about to ask why when there was a bright white light from above that engulfed them. In an instant they were gone. Anyone who was looking might have seen a shooting star arc its way across the star-lit sky. A new life began.

 

THE END

 

Epilogue –

 

“Mulder, did you see that? A shooting star! Make a wish.” 

 

“I saw it. But I have nothing left to wish for. With you and William in my arms; there’s nothing else I could possibly want.”

 

She leaned her head against her husband’s shoulder. “I don’t care how he did it or why. I’m just grateful to Krycek. This makes up for everything.” She cuddled her sleeping baby in her arms and kissed the curly head. “You think those papers are real?”

 

“I have a feeling they are. I don’t know how he managed to rescind that adoption and get us custody but they look real. I’ll check them out in the morning. Right now I just want to hold the two of you in my arms and give thanks for a life I never thought I’d have.”

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

 

“Alex, where are we?”

 

“I don’t know. Does it matter?”

 

“I guess not.”

 

“Jeremiah will tell us when we get there. In the mean time, come on back to bed; I’m lonesome.” Alex pulled back the covers and beckoned to him.

 

Skinner smiled and crawled back into bed beside his lover. “I think I’m going to like this new life!”

 

 

Christmas – a time for new beginnings and a new life for two couples from DC.

 

 

The end/and the beginning.


End file.
